Fighting Love
by jonadark
Summary: You can't help who you fall for...but can you fight it? AU HGDM OOC
1. Chapter 1

Fighting Love

* * *

Happiness trickles down your spine and fills you whole. You can feel it in your stomach, in your toes. It's a lot like love—and a lot less complicated. You think it's for the best, the best of both worlds, but then…sometimes you come to a fork in the road. Two paths lay before you, and you don't know which way to go. One way will turn your happiness into obsession…and the other…well the other will turn it into love.

You can't help who you fall for.

That is one thing I learned rather late. I'd beat myself up about it too many times, for too many years. But you just can't help who you're attracted to. And I don't think you're supposed to.

I try hard to remind myself of these things every time I see this person. But…when thoughts fly out of your head, it's really hard to remember anything, to see anything, except for your obsession.

That's the road I took, I didn't want love, I couldn't…couldn't deal with that.

At least, that's what I thought at the time. Now I sit here, watching, observing…hurting. It hurts so much not to be able to come to terms with my own feeling, my own emotions. It's a hurricane—as damaging and as devastating. A hurricane that lives and thrives inside of me and I know that one day it will devour me whole.

The swirling colors, the dresses and the robes, the music and the light combine into a whirling festival of emotion.

The ball is—as I thought it would be—an excuse for close dancing, groping, and making out. No one here was seriously taking the reason for this whole thing to heart. It was joke and I, the coordinator, admit it. The thing is that you can't take a whole group of kids with raging hormones and try to get them to understand something important. I should have learned that back when I started SPEW and everyone thought it was a joke.

Though it might of have just been the fact that people think I'm a joke.

I sit back and watch Harry and Ginny as they danced. It wasn't as sickening a display as some of the other couples but…

I was just thankful that Ron had decided to take his woman of the moment into a more private area. I didn't need to be seeing that, just as I did not need to see Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson doing—whatever it was they were doing.

Turning my head I lean back, closing my eyes and hope that the next hour and a half pass quickly.

The music drenches me; relieving me of the stress I'd put myself under in preparation for this failure. I could hear the music as it slowed, and a soft tune fills the air. A slow song no doubt, one that would allow those idiots out there to get closer than ever to their partners…

And I was jealous. Without opening my eyes I knew I was the only person who was alone, sitting all alone. It made me mad, but what can you do? Seriously. There is nothing you can do if people find you less than attractive and, I grinned, too smart for them. I could run circles around most people.

Most people. There was one, one person who, no matter what, made my breath hitch, my blood race…only one person.

I wanted more than anything to be out there on that dance floor, with the arms, so strong and gentle, encircling my waist—holding me close.

Never letting me go.

"Granger?"

I heard the voice and groaned, opening my eyes. "Yes?"

Blaise Zabini rolled his eyes. "You are supposed to be out there." He motioned towards the dance floor.

"Oh, yeah. Right. That's funny. Excuse me if I don't laugh." I close my eyes again, unafraid of the Slytherin. I could hear him sigh and felt as he pulled a chair out next to me and sit.

"Why am I always being dumped?" Blaise asked.

I sit up, rubbing my temples, the music was blaring again. "I don't know."

He sighs and I offer him one of my patented 'sorry, can't help, but I know what you're going through' smiles. We had been forced to prepare the ball together and after six weeks of spending a majority of your time with one person, you get to know them. Even the hostility that the Slytherin held towards me had worn off a bit. But I didn't care. My eyes had caught site of my obsession…and that was the end of all coherent thoughts.

* * *

Eyes the color of a stormy day and hair of pale winter sunlight. I hated the very fact that my obsession was in every way an angel. I was sure that if he knew my thoughts he'd hate that too. No one who proclaims to be evil wants to be compared with something of light, of justice. But I don't think he would care all that much after the ceremonial anger subsided. I had watched him long enough to see through his façade.

Or at least I had convinced myself I had.

It's hard to say you know nothing about your obsession—that would almost contradict that fact that you have an obsession. So, let me just say that I figure myself an expert on the human being Draco Malfoy.

But in all reality, I did not know him at all. We engaged in regular verbal quarrels, and recently in physical. It's hard to be one of the 'Golden Trio'. To say that Ron, Harry, or myself could go one day without hitting, cursing, or insulting a Slytherin would be an oxymoron. It's not supposed to happen.

It doesn't happen.

I cringe now as my obsession walks over to us and seats himself across from Blaise and myself.

"Blaise, what are you doing…" Malfoy observes me. "Here?"

Blaise shrugs. "Not much."

My mind spun out of control. He was so close, I wanted to touch him but held my hand back—at least I had some control…but my thoughts…were another case entirely.

_His silver eyes glanced at me, a small smile—a rare treasure—glancing his lips as he brushed his hair from his face._

_I can't see clear. My eyes are closed _

_But I can feel your warm embrace _

_I don't know why we were crying _

"Granger." Malfoy was looking at me in that way that I hated.

"Yeah?"

Blaise stood. "Well, I'm going to go drown my sorrows."

I turned as he walked away. "No drinking!" I yelled after him and smiled as he turned and waved, showing the flask he'd had hidden in his robes.

I shook my head. I was very against what Blaise was about to go do. But you can't help who you like and you can't help what other people do when they are dead determined to do it.

That was one thing I'd learned. And learned early.

Malfoy was looking at me oddly. "We need to talk." He didn't wait for an answer, just stood and left, expecting me to follow.

If I'd had half of my wits about me or a friend who wasn't _occupied_ I probably wouldn't have gotten out of my seat. But I was alone and half out of my mind. I followed him—just as I had a year ago.

When my obsession started.

_I hold your hand for the last time _

_I hear your words break the silence _

_I understand it's you last wish _

_I kiss your lips before I leave_

As I said, happiness can make the whole world change color. It makes the dull gleam and everything just brightens. You don't walk, you skip, your heart light.

But things just got complicated too quickly. And I couldn't deal with that.

I follow Malfoy to a dark and surprisingly uninhabited hallway where he stopped and turned.

"You really should have danced with me when I asked you." he said softly. "I don't see why you didn't."

Because I like you, I thought, but didn't say. Just being near him had cut off all ability to speak.

He didn't wait for an answer, I'm not sure if he even expected one.

He took my hand in his and pulled me closer. If one can die from contact with someone who sends their heart into abnormal rhythms, I'm sure I'd be dropping dead right about now.

But I didn't, instead he started to move us in a slow dance.

And let me tell you something, not all cats land on their feet, and not all girls are graceful—I can't dance.

That doesn't seem to matter to him though and he moves us in some dance I don't know to the faint music that was trickling in.

"You have been avoiding me."

I nodded, no disagreement there. I had been. I knew that, he knew that—the world knew that.

"Why?"

I didn't say anything. Draco Malfoy had confused me ever since that day.

That day, time stood still.

And my heart was taken.

_Every night I wake up crying _

_I feel so helpless _

_Why did you leave? _

_And every night I feel like dying _

_What's the reason?

* * *

_

Well, this will indeed by a rather romantic story, if that's what you like, continue to read.

Song incerts from: End of Love by BlutEngel

Inspired by the art of Linda Joyce Franks

Please Review.

Thank you,

jd.


	2. Chapter 2

Fighting Love

* * *

I hated him. I really did. I had hated him from the very moment I saw him—even though I had no rational explanation—until that horrible day I realized that the reason I hated him was that I _liked _him. And let me tell you, I was rather happy to have come to this realization before he dropped into my room and told me I liked him. 

The nerve of him! I sometimes wonder if love is worth the pain . I really wish it was—but if you have no one who loves you in return…

Is that love.

Or if the love is taken back, like a ticket… 'No ma'am we can't let you have what you want'.

Life sucks.

* * *

He continued to torment me day in and day out. I couldn't even escape him in sleep. He was always there…always there. Had always been there. 

He'd just been waiting for me to wake up and see.

And one day, I did.

_I need some sleep  
You can't go on like this  
I'd tried counting sheep  
But there's one I always miss_

Have you ever caught yourself watching? Watching your obsession? You don't even realize it's happening. You're not even conscious of your thoughts. Instead it's like that period right before sleep takes you in the mid day sun. The almost blinding light coaxes you to close your eyes, gently washing you in warmth—encouraging sleep. The book slips from your fingers and rests in your lap, your mind and thoughts caught in that lazy haze. You just feel good.

I sometimes wonder if things like that are addicting—like drugs. It sure would explain why everyone is so hell-bent on finding love—or happiness—or just someone to hold.

I don't think we really know what we're getting into or if we just want it—with such passion—that we dive off without thinking…hoping for the best. Hoping to be caught, caught in the arms of the one we so desperately want to have holding us.

Sometimes my thoughts get me into trouble—like right now. I've been caught staring at the very last personI want to be caught by—my obsession.

He smirks at me and I feel the heat rush to my face. Why? Why did it have to be him? 'Tis some cruel joke—thought up by a person who likes to watch me in pain. The cruelest joke ever played.

Ducking my head I severeye contact—no way am I going to admit that I was staring. I don't have to, though, which is why my reaction is so blatantly stupid. He _knows._ He always seems to know. I search the parchment, my notes—my non-existent notes that is. I mentally kick myself, sneaking yet another peek across the room. His head is down now, blond hair falling lightly in front of his features. His hands are pale—I notice—as he jots notes with the raven black quill I know he favors. His other hand swats, annoyed, at his hair trying and failing to keep it form his face.

"Hermione."

The whining voice makes me grimace and I turn to Lavender. "What?" My annoyance was plainly evident, but Lavender was—well, Lavender just doesn't care. She happens to be one of those 'me first, you later' kind of person.

"Notes." She smiles expectantly, her perfectly manicured hand outstretched.

I roll my eyes and hand her the parchment.

One.

Two.

Three…

I look over just in time to see her smug smile of satisfaction fade and fall. "It's blank." She points to the parchment.

Now it's my turn to smirk. "Is that so?"

Lavender gives the parchment a crisp shake, her eyes bulging. "Are you _blind?_" Her voice tensed. "You didn't take any notes!"

I can only shake my head and shrug. "Whoops."

"WHOOPS!"

I cringe as Lavender stands having lost her composure she storms to the front of the room, the entire class now looking.

"Hermione." Lavender looks pointedly back at me. "You didn't take notes!"

I heard the gasps, but I didn't care—it was Lavender who was acting stupid, not like I was doing an Irish jig on the table or something. All's I did was…

Daydream.

All hour.

Professor Biggs seems to agree with me, staring at Lavender as if she had just spoken Chinese.

I wonder for a second if he'd respond with 'chi chow young' or something. Obviously my Chinese is very limited. In fact, it's non-existent.

Lavender finally takes the hint after what seems to be ages. She turned and calmly sits down, tossing my empty parchment at me—and a few death glares.

It's just too bad I don't care. I didn't like her using me as a scapegoat anyway.

The room didn't seem to care either and they turned back to their own work, causing Lavender to huff and sigh exaggeratedly.

I ignored her—choosing instead to start on the homework on the board.

_Write the ways in which the…_

Lavender was jabbing me in the ribs. I pushed her prodding hand away.

_Summer solstice…_

She continued to jab me, jerking in her seat and trying to get me to look up. Out of the corner of my eye it looked like she was having a fit, an episode, a seizure—take your pick. And it didn't look pleasant. I continued to ignore her.

_Equally distributes the way a…_

"What!" I look up, completely annoyed.

Lavender is bright red and pointing to my right.

"What is it?" I ask, turning…and then I realized what it was or rather, who.

_Everyone says  
I'm getting down too low  
Everyone says  
You just got to let it go_

"You can borrow my notes." Ifound myselfstaring into his winter-sky eyes. Why did he have to have such soulful eyes? Why did he have to be the one?

Why?

I felt the nerves begin to gnaw through the shock and I stared like an idiot as he held his notes out to me. I couldn't move, there was just no way. Why was it I just couldn't lift my hand and take them, nod my head, say 'no'…anything! I really couldn't.

I knew I was turning red, I could feel the heat on my neck—oh thank Merlin I wore my hair down today. You can't help who you fall for and believe me you can't help how your body reacts.

He stands there a second longer before a small smile crosses his heavenly features and I think I'm going to be sick.

"It's no problem." He places the notes on the table and gently brushes his hand against mine.

I want the world to end.

Lavender lunges, grabbing the notes. "Thanks."

I can see Draco's eyes flash—flash with what, I'm not sure. It wasn't annoyance. I don't think he cared, but something…something.

"You're welcome."

The other Gryffindors look up now in surprise.

Now I wanted him to disappear. It was bad enough he tortured me on an hourly, no secondly basis, but I did _not_ need my housemates doing it as well.

When the hour finally ends I run off—who needed lunch? —I needed to go drown myself in the bathroom.

_I need some sleep  
Time to put the old horse down  
I'm in too deep  
And the wheels keep spinning' round_

I didn't really try to do that, though, instead, I chose to sit in a chair—the sunlight hitting me, my eyes closing, my mind hazy…

Leaving my Draco-obsessed brain free to torture me as I drifted off.

* * *

It had started as all things started. Once upon a time… 

I was standing again, in the ballroom. The others were somewhere, lost in the crowd. I could feel the hand as it snaked across my back, pulling me against him. I smiled, in the darkness no one could see. No one could see as he embraced me and turned me to face him.

"There you are."

I don't say anything. I never say anything.

He reaches up and brushes the curls from my face. His arms warm and tight—never letting me go. I want nothing more than to dance in that slow hypnotic sway—with him, only with him. It's amazing how the perfect song always comes along and plays at the perfect time. The time when his eyes are locked with mine.

I don't doubt that I am as transparent as glass. He can see inside of me, my soul, my thoughts.

This is what scares me, what makes me turn. This is what makes me run. I run away as the perfect song plays on. I run and feel empty.

This is where I choose the path.

And I choose the coward's way.

I wouldn't let myself be hurt.

I wouldn't let him near me.

I wouldn't.

_Everyone says  
You just got to let it go  
You just got to let it go

* * *

wahla! numero dos! chapter two!_

well, i like the chapter.

hope you do too!

song incerts: I need some sleep by The Eels

Please review!

jd.


	3. Chapter 3

Fighting Love

If you like this story you should all thank **MysteriousDarkSoul **for the update. And I should thank her for all her lovely reviews and everything else she's done. I hope you update soon too!

* * *

Perfection.

Is that too much to ask for? Not in another person, mind you, but in myself. If only I could be what I want myself to be. If only I could be the girl, the woman, if we go by what he says--if I could only be the woman he deserves.

_With all of this I know now  
Everything inside of my head  
It all just goes to show how  
Nothing I know changes me at all_

My whole body, especially my head, aches. Decisions I've made haunt me, settling into my thoughts, into my joints, covering my body in shame.

That's exactly what I feel. Shame. I find it hard not to feel that the best way to deal with this is to just suck it up and suffer. I am not one who hasn't experienced enough of it before and sometimes I feel that it is just best to go on with what I know. Just let the anguish wash me over and wear me down until I am raw.

Of course, Harry and Ron notice after I let this happen. You see, me _raw_ is pretty much me in a very, very bad mood. And people are bound to notice when you go around scowling and being, well, bitchy all day long.

I sit around, being raw and miserable and just too damn stubborn to admit that I chose the wrong path and that…that I lost it all.

I lost everything that might have been.

By being me, I lost what could have been--who knows, but I like to think it would have been great. I like to think that instead of crying tears of agony; I'd be crying tears of joy or laughter.

And then, in all my misery, I look up and see him, smiling, laughing, his eyes catching mine—and I wish to Merlin, to god, to whatever power is out there that I be given a chance to rewind time. Rewind to go back to the night of the dance, the night when everything officially came to an end.

_Again I waited for this to change instead  
To tear the world in two  
another night with her  
But I'm always wanting you_

It had been a year since the night Malfoy had come into my rooms and announced that I, Hermione Granger, liked him, Draco Malfoy.

He'd said it in that confident cocky voice of his, trademark smirk in place, hands on hips, and blond hair gleaming in that unnatural way.

The night of the ball marked, well, a big step for me. We'd been doing this weird two step dance that neither of knew the steps to. We were going to be among our fellow students. There would be no place to hide.

I'd have no place to hide.

I knew this, I knew this very well and it had scared me so bad that the six weeks leading up to the dance I'd avoided him with a passion. I'd thrown myself uncannily into my work and had been surprised when Blaise Zabini had complied, working just as diligently beside me. I'd soon found out that Blaise was an interesting character and I'd grown to enjoy his company and…his stories about Draco Malfoy.

* * *

"We could have the Weird Sisters again." Blaise murmured, turning through the list of possible bands I'd handed him an hour ago. 

The Weird Sisters were possible, I had to admit, but…

"But then again, that would be lame." Blaise added, scratching out their name without waiting for my word.

I smiled, it was hard not to. Blaise swept a hand through his mussed black hair. "You think we could have streamers?"

"Streamers?" I was still grinning uncharacteristically at the Slytherin.

Blaise nodded, shifting his wait to lean forward over the table. "Yeah. Streamers. You know, those things made out of paper that are, like…different colors and you pretty much just drape them over everything?"

I nodded. "I know of them, I'm just surprised that you do is all."

Blaise laughed, the papers falling onto the table as he leaned back. "I blame Draco for my affection for that damn muggle decoration."

My interest perked against my will. "How so?" I asked, keeping my eyes down. But Blaise had caught my keenness at the mention of Draco's name and he smirked.

"You're odd, Gryffindor."

Rolling my eyes I shuffled my papers. "Should I take that as a compliment?"

Again Blaise only shrugged off my comment. "Draco and I are always holding parties down in the dungeons. You see, unlike you stuck-up Gryffindors, us Slytherins know how to party."

I frowned, not really caring about the intended insult, but at the fact that Blaise now seemed to bait me. His eyes were sparkling with a mischief that five weeks of knowing him had taught me to be wary of.

My eyes narrowed, it was Blaise after all, and I'd yet to back down from one of his so-called challenges. "That still doesn't explain why there were muggle party decorations there."

Nodding Blaise continued. "We usually smuggle food in from Hogsmead and send several people down to get food off the house elves."

"Like that's hard?"

A wide smile graced his lips, Blaise laughed at me. I liked the way he smiled. He was kind--I'd come to realize, when he was in an environment he felt comfortable in. When he was with friends. And over the weeks, I'd noticed the way he'd begun to smile, to joke, to…it seemed so easy for him. I was jealous. Why couldn't things be as easy for me?

Oh, that's right, because I'm emotionally challenged. I'm challenged more than emotionally. I'm challenged when it comes to trust, to letting myself be happy. Shaking away my thoughts I grin as well.

"Can I ask you a question Granger?"

I nodded.

Blaise leaned forward. "I told you about Bernice, right?"

Nodding, I tick off the other names and stories he'd told me. "Carla, Parvati, Missy, Sara, and," I took a deep breath. "Millicent."

Blaise cringed good-naturedly. "Well, now there's Bernice. And…"

"Let me guess, she dumped you after…" I thought back to the story of Millicent, counting forward. "Three days."

Blaise grimaced. "Yeah."

I nodded sympathetically. "And your question is?"

"Why do they do that? I mean, I'm not overly horrible, I don't act like some raging hormonal teenager or anything. Why is it that they just up and dump me for no reason other than that they 'have their reasons'?"

I feel for him as he leans back in frustration. Blaise Zabini went through girls--or rather girls went through him faster than I could count. He wasn't a bad guy, not someone who deserved what he was getting. I felt sick to my stomach at the way girls were treating him.

His face was screwed up in confusion and pain--an expression that I felt I had worn too many times myself.

"I don't know. I really don't know, Blaise. Maybe, maybe you just need to look at…" I sighed. "At different kinds of girls."

He ignored me once again even though I knew he heard and logged away everything I said. "I know about you and Draco."

Thank Merlin I hadn't been drinking anything, because I'm more than positive I'd have choked. "What! Blaise are you crazy?" My already tormented body now felt as if it had been picked up and was about to be wrung dry by cruel hands. Why?

"He talks about you."

"He insults me."

"When it's just the two of us. He's actually been threatening me lately."

"Doesn't seem different to me."

"He's jealous, you know."

"What?" It was as if I were talking to thin air for all the good my words did me. Blaise tended to hold a conversation with a person without exactly holding an actual conversation. I gave up and just listened to him unravel.

"Draco's not happy about you avoiding him and all."

My mouth dropped open. "I am not avoiding him!"

Blaise didn't even bother to tell me I was a big fat liar. He only stared at me with his piercing dark eyes.

I could feel the tears well up, unbidden. "Damn it." I moaned, resting my head on the table. "Just tell him to leave me alone." I groaned miserably.

Blaise's voice drifted into my ear. "He would, but the poor boy is smitten."

Now I was just amused. _Smitten_, Malfoy? With me? Ha, ha, very funny. No one could be _smitten_ with dumpy me.

_I know you say  
Maybe some day  
I need never be alone  
I know I say  
It's the right way  
But you'll never be the one_

It's so hard to believe you can be special to someone. I know this; I know the pain of pushing them away--pushing them, pushing them away. And for what? I ask myself this now, for no other reason other than I did not trust them. I did not trust them with my feelings.

It's funny for me, someone who has never really been hurt--to have this guard up around myself twenty-four seven. But even with the most carefully watched shield, something, or rather, someone always slips pass.

And then I really feel the pain.

Seeing you every day puts a smile on my face, then a frown, then a grimace, and so on until I feel sick just to see you. I hate what I've done.

Could you ever forgive me?

Could you ever take me back? Or have I ruined it, for all time. Just by being me.

All's I ask, as I lay in my bed completely alone, is for perfection. I want to be the perfect one for you. But…I can feel the icy hot tear as it stings my eyes. They catch at the brim, not willing to escape, but instead torment me with their salty sting. I don't want to cry. I don't want any of this anymore. I…I can't handle it.

Screaming in one's head results in nothing more than a large headache, sore muscles, and tear stained eyes.

But this is my life.

I can hear the common room door closing and the footsteps of two males walk pass my door and into Draco's room. Wiping furiously at my eyes I got myself out of bed, smoothing my wrinkled clothing and my hair. Grabbing the notes off my desk, I opened my door, took two steps to his and knocked.

My heart wishes to stop as he opens the door. His eyes run over me coldly. "Granger."

Not knowing exactly what had possessed me to do this, I shoved the papers in front of me, mumbling incoherently. The second his hand was on them, I turned and scampered back to the safety of my room, the door slamming behind me. My chest was rising and falling rapidly. Something I am sure is not exactly good for my already stressed body. Slowly, ever so slowly I sank to the floor, leaning my head against the wall.

Why did things have to be like this?

Oh, that's right. I made them this way. This is what I wanted.

Merlin, I'm an idiot.

_I've been walking alone now  
For a long long time  
I don't want to hang out now_

The knock surprised me from my thoughts and I got up as one does when someone knocks.

"Open up Granger."'

I froze in my tracks. Did I dare open the door? Did I dare face him? Would I crumble at the sight of him? Slowly, I backed away from the door until my legs met with resistance. I sat on my bed, trying to calm my rapid breathing and heartbeat, which I was sure he could hear, even through the door.

"You are going to stop this foolishness and open the door!"

I could hear his agitation. I could just imagine his eyes narrowed in anger, his lips pursed, and his hand on the wall as he leaned towards the door. Possibly resting his forehead against said door.

With all my thoughts, it's obvious that I didn't even think to answer.

"Damn it Granger, I've let you go on like this for far too long. If you don't open this door this instant, I'll be forced to result to desperate measures."

"And he means _desperate measures_." Came another voice, one that I recognized as Blaise's.

"Shut up." Came Draco's irritated reply. "Granger!" he shouted again. "Are you listening to me?"

I still couldn't work up the courage to answer. The silence continued until I caught the sound of whispering. Slowly I crept towards the door, pressing my ear against it.

"Go get Potter, or Weasley, or that other one."

"For what?"

"Her password you idiot."

"Eh?"

"Just go get one of them."

"And how exactly am I supposed to get them to come up here?"

"Use your imagination." I heard Draco hiss.

I didn't want my friends brought into this. It was bad enough that Blaise new everything. I didn't need anyone else to know.

"Don't." I shouted.

"Oh. Granger. You're alive. I was beginning to wonder."

Gritting my teeth I held my tongue. "What do you want Malfoy?"

"Why don't you suck up some of that Gryffindor courage and come out here and face me, and then maybe, we'll talk."

What Gryffindor courage? I thought. I'd lost all courage the minute I'd looked at him.

_Heal me  
I begged and love said no  
Leave me  
for dead and let me go  
Kill me  
I cried and love said no  
Kill me  
I cried and love said no_

Every time I approached him with a fully formed plan…all it took was a look from him and that plan might as well just commit suicide for all the good it will do me.

The pain in my chest tightened, my hand flying towards the spot as if I could massage it all away. If only such things were so easy. "I have nothing to say to you!"

I could imagine Draco smirking at this and I could tell in his voice he was doing just that. "Right, Granger. Get out here now."

Just hearing his voice, even that condescending tone, was a punch to my gut. I wanted nothing more than for him to speak to me in soft, hushed tones, to…these thoughts had to go! Now! The punch of anguish I felt at the sound of his voice was ten times worse than the dull, never ending ache I felt when all I did was crave to hear it. Merlin, why do I feel so much?

Oh, a senseless world! What a wonder that would be!

I could hear Blaise's retreating footsteps and in a moment of panic, I was out the door. "Don't!" I cried, glad to see Blaise stop, spin and come back, a slight smile on his annoyingly charming features.

Draco grabbed my arm and spun me toward him. "It's about time you saw reason." There was no smirk in his eyes. Only…controlled anger.

How controlled, well, I really hope I don't find that out.

"Should I vanish, or should I stick around and play mediator?"

I nodded feverishly. Yes! Blaise, stay. But Draco was shaking his head and my vocal cords denied my brains insistent shouts to work.

Angry with my uncooperative body, it was damn determined to be alone with my obsession, or so it seems, I tried instead to use my eyes and my telepathic abilities to tell Blaise to stay.

As you might have already guessed, you have to have eye contact with someone and a profound understanding of a person for such a message to be received or even sent, and lets just say my telepathic abilities border on nil. All that is a fancy round about way of saying I failed, miserably.

I watched the retreating Slytherin as he turned, small smile still in place and eyes gleaming. I watched him exit the portrait, and I watched it swing shut behind him. Still, I stared at the portrait, willing him to come back.

"He's gone." Draco said finally.

I wasn't about to give up, I continued to stare, eyes frozen on the portrait.

"He's not coming back."

Damn if I was to believe him, of all people--my eyes firmly rooted on the door. But there were other things I couldn't ignore so easily—such as his tight grip on my upper arm and the warmth that was spreading beneath his fingers onto my skin. It had been several months since I'd been this close to Draco Malfoy. Several very long, torturous, incredibly lonely months filled with agony and…well, I'm sure we all known what it was filled with—longing.

* * *

The night of the ball had been planned to perfection, even the tuff assed Slytherin beside me had to admit to a job well done. We were both dressed in out costumes and seeing to the final touches before the rest of our fellow students were to arrive. 

"I have to give it to you Granger, you really know how to use those streamers." Blaise joked grinning at me from behind his black mask.

I didn't wear a mask, so I knew my features were clearly and horribly open to the world. But I smiled obligingly. "This was the easy part."

"Now we have to survive it." He finished for me, causing me to grin widely. I couldn't help but take a shine to the guy. He really was remarkable.

"No kidding." I murmured, my eyes sweeping over the room once more. "This should really be a grand breeding ground for…"

"Now, now…don't go all bitter on me again. You and I know what this ball is for and that's all that counts. We did our part in the 'inter-bonding and improvement of inter-house relationships'. After all, did we or did we not just survive six weeks of each others non stop company without one case of hexing?"

Laughing lightly I nodded briskly. "Very true."

"Good, just keep that mood, and that smile, and everything will go fine. Just…" He set his hand on my shoulder. "Just don't think too hard about it all. You're much too mature for your age."

"So are you."

"But I'm better at hiding it."

That sadly was the end of the conversation as the doors swept open and a throng of students in majestic gowns and robes swirled in.

Try as I might, I knew this was going to be a horrible night.

* * *

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thanks again to **MysteriousDarkSoul** !

until next time,

jd.


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